I’m Illiterate

It had to have been hours that you were sitting there, well into the night, not that you could tell as the curtains had been shut the whole day encasing the room in darkness. You had been there slowly learning and practicing techniques. To get a perfect slice was your aim, just to watch your current victim, blade slicing through its flesh. You felt satisfied once it was over, a sense of accomplishment washing over you like that of a warm shower. You couldn’t help it, it was addicting, seeing those which you liked to slice so much, the life being drained before your eyes, you couldn’t stop if you tried. As you looked down, ready for a last hurrah before you ended it all. The weapon felt warm when you picked it up, hot from being held in your strong grip and ready to be wielded for a final dance with the devil. You sliced once, twice, three times, each time hitting your target, the sounds like music to your ears. It was almost over, life slowly dwindling away, you knew you needed to try harder, quicker. A wetness on your cheeks distracted you for a moment, tears on frustration and angst cascading down your flushed face. Only a little bit more, and it would be done, but before you could get there was a loud sound, wailing, making your ears ring, and then there was silence. You continued to cry tears of defeat and sadness. Words seemingly taunting you “game over.”

You wake up, it’s 11:30 on Christmas Eve. You walk down the stairs, you hear a noise that sounds suspiciously like reindeer coming from the roof. You continue walking until you get to the living room, there is a glass of milk and a plate of cookies on the side table, a bag of carrots resting beside them — your family’s Christmas tradition. Suddenly, you hear a shuffling sound being emitted from the fireplace, you cautiously approach the wall it resides upon, the noise continues. It gets louder and louder, soot starts to leak out of the passage and then there is a loud bang, the soot becomes heavy in the air. When the obstruction clears it appears, a large old man, a full white beard rests upon his chin, a red and white hat adorns his head and a suit of he same colours on his body and he appears to be holding a sack of sorts. When you finally meet his eyes, he smiles, you let out a make a squeaking sound. The man lets out a hearty laugh “ham ham ham.”